It was a Providential chance to make
their acquaintance and win their gratitude. (She had met Raygan in
Egypt and London, and sailed on the _Monarchic_ in consequence.)
"The stewardess told me before I moved down," she went on, "that Mme.
Nadine had taken the ship's nursery this trip for her show, and fitted
it with wardrobes and mirror doors at immense expense. I'm afraid she
won't get her money back if this storm lasts. Who could gaze at living
models?"
"I could, if they're as beautiful as your brother says," replied Lord
Raygan, a tall, lanky, red-headed Irishman with humorous eyes and a
heavy jaw. He was the first earl Ena had ever met, but she prayed
fervently that he might not be the last.
Peter somehow did not want those pale dryads sacrificed to make a
Raygan holiday. He regretted having remarked on their beauty. "They
looked more like dying than living models when I saw them," he said.
"Let's go and see what they look like now," suggested Raygan. "Eh,
what, Miss Rolls?"
"I don't know if men _can_ go," she hesitated.
"Who's to stop them? Why shouldn't I be wanting to buy one of the
dresses off their backs for my sister?"
"What a _melting_ idea! You do, don't you, dear boy?" the flapper
encouraged him.
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